Treason1 wrote...
I will laugh maniacally if it turns out she's hallucinating.
You are very, very evil.
Dragon Age: The Hunt (Fanfiction) (Completed - Now with Art!)
Débuté par
Shadow of Light Dragon
, janv. 09 2010 03:21
#176
Posté 07 mars 2010 - 11:50
Freckles04
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You are very, very evil.
Retour en haut
#177
Posté 08 mars 2010 - 02:30
Jules8445
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I'm pretty sure that if she's hallucinating...I'll die of frustration. Absolute frustration. Great chapter as always...can't wait to see what happens!
#178
Posté 08 mars 2010 - 07:12
Emma-Lath
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I'll shamefully admit I let out fangirl like cry at the end of this chapter. I think if Alistair turns out to be a hallucination I will cry. Anyways amazing chapter, I can't wait for the next one.
#180
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 01:50
Shadow of Light Dragon
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:innocent:
Part 23 - Fever
Alistair was smiling. After what he’d been through, no small part thanks to Asleena, a look of affection was the last thing she’d have expected to see even if it was what she’d hopelessly wished for. His hand stroked her sweaty brow with all the tenderness she remembered of him, traced gently down the side of her face to her jaw, and a fresh wave of vertigo that had nothing to do with her fever made her vision double. She knew that touch well. Missed it…craved it.
It couldn’t be real, her mind struggled to argue. It was a fever-dream. She groped for his hand again, pulling it away from where it had drifted to her chin and taking it into both of her own…and it was solid. Real. She had always treasured the touch of these hands, she recalled muzzily, staring at them…large, strong, calloused and battle-scarred…the first time he’d truly held her with them they’d been trembling and unsure. Every innocent touch of his fingers had conveyed a reverence bordering on open worship. “All hands,” he had said dismally, like it was something to be ashamed of…but she had cherished every caress.
She wanted to take her gauntlets off but couldn’t bring herself to let him go. Not again. Hesitantly, she lifted his palm and pressed it against her cheek. His thumb brushed across her skin in sweet response.
“My love…” she swallowed hard, unable to look up at his face again. “That’s…that’s all you want to say to me?”
“It’s the only thing that’s important.”
“I thought you’d be furious,” she whispered, and prodded the festering wound she knew had to be there. “You’re not angry? Not even a bit?”
“You want me to rant and rave for a while?” he asked jokingly. “I could work up a good froth, you know. Or drool, if it helps. That always attracts a crowd.”
“I don’t want to fight…but you…” she tried to move and groaned. “Oh, Maker…”
He knelt and framed her face with both hands, turning her head to peer concernedly into her eyes. “Maker’s breath, woman, what have you done to yourself?”
Asleena made a vague gesture towards her splinted leg and managed a weak chuckle. “It’s a long story. Zev went to look for a healer. He…” She trailed off and winced as her brain kicked her. If she hadn’t been so light-headed she might have thought twice about mentioning Zevran’s presence so casually. But she had expected to navigate that particular conversation with an angry and hurt Alistair, not the man kneeling beside her now who watched her with nothing more than attentive curiosity.
Maybe she’d been wrong.
“Zev found me first,” Alistair said, resting his brow against hers so that his breath tickled her face. “He pointed the way and I came ahead to make sure you’d be all right…”
**
Zevran followed the sound of Dalish singing until he could see firelight through the trees, then headed straight towards this new beacon with no attempt at stealth. It was faster, and any sentries posted would have less motivation to shoot an obviously elven visitor than a shadow skulking through this darkspawn-infested forest. He had no idea where he was anymore, or how he’d get back to Asleena without a guide who might recognise the geographical features of where he’d left her. After however long he’d been running, one tree looked much like another in the dark.
He was surprised to realise he recognised the tune being sung. Though he didn’t know the words, he remembered it being a song invoking the protection of Mythal.
And the source of the flames turned out to be a large pyre.
No one challenged him as neared the clearing, and he paused only when he reached the trees bordering the very edge. There were several elves standing around the burning pile, all wearing some kind of facial covering as they stood vigil. The general lack of wind meant the black smoke went straight to the sky, but even so there was a familiar foul stench to the conflagration that flipped a card in Zevran’s tired memory: the elves were burning darkspawn corpses.
Movement caught his eyes and a trio of armed, leather-clad elves strode into the clearing. One of them said something to her companions and they left her side, but she walked quickly around the edge to where one of the fire-watchers stood and the two started talking. Without really thinking about it, Zevran found himself picking a silent path between the trees to get close enough to listen in.
“…clan was hit hard, but it looks like many fled to other camps and survived,” the woman was reporting. “We still don’t know how many got away, but signs show the sharlocks took a heavy toll.”
The other elf, a white-haired male, said, “Keeper Zathera?”
“Lives, as does her First.”
“Some good news, at last. Continue, da’len.”
“There is news from Turii’s clan, but good or ill is not for me to say.” The woman sounded uneasy. “I felt it best to tell you before informing Galahan, Alistair and our other guests, as it involves Turii’s First and another Grey Warden.”
Zevran shifted position carefully, pressing his back to the tree he’d ended up behind.
“Keeper Sindel. What has befallen her?”
“Her fate is connected to the Warden’s and her flat-eared companion. All three entered the Green Dales last eve seeking to join the attack on the earthwound. Only Sindel made it back to her clan, and she is…she is ill, hahren. Her healer confided he knows no cure for her sickness.”
The elder was silent. Zevran heard a rustle of clothing, then: “You should be wearing a mask near the pyre, da’len. I do you a disservice for not remembering sooner.”
“What will you tell her betrothed?”
“I don’t know. I will have to think on that for a time. What of the Keeper’s two companions?”
“Presumed dead. They were all in the earthwound, hahren, alive, such are Sindel’s words according to he I spoke with. If accurate…Alistair may have inadvertently helped to drown one, possibly two of his friends.”
The elder sighed heavily. “Leave that to me. Tell me of the other clans.”
“Keeper Athandis’ clan held, and Keeper Damalian’s, but one of her people panicked during a sharlock strike and summoned a spirit from Beyond, which killed her and several others before…“
Their voices faded into the ambient noise of pyre and singing as Zevran crept away. Once a safe distance into the trees he stopped, took a few long breaths and tried to decide what to do. Alistair was here. Somewhere. Should he be alerted to Asleena’s presence or not? It would end her search, for good or ill, and seal the path of Zevran’s future.
No. It is not the time. She…she is fevered and injured and in no condition to deal with his tantrums. I have already taken too long finding help.
Shutting his mind to everything else, he stalked quickly away from the clearing and followed the adjoining trails to another open area, where a pair of aravels stood and halla slept standing. From here he quickly spotted the healer’s corner, dominated by a number of wood-framed beds and a table strewn with jars and herbs. Zevran stepped into clear view, walked straight past two Dalish who didn’t even give him a glance, and approached an elderly elf measuring liquids into a flask.
“Aneth ara,” Zevran tried, using one of the few phrases of his mother’s tongue that he actually remembered.
The healer looked up, squinted his grey eyes and pointed a long finger at a basin of water. “You would do well to clean that blood off your face, da’len. One moment and I will see to your injuries.” Picking up the poultice he’d just prepared and a wad of bandages, he went off towards the beds.
Zevran began to follow, his mouth opening to say something that might hurry the healer’s return, but froze. There was a human man sitting on one of the beds, shirtless and with bandages wrapping his chest.
Alistair.
Moving casually, Zevran went over to the water basin, picked up the wash cloth and turned his back. The former Grey Warden had not been looking in his direction, staring instead into the darkened forest.
“Anything?” he heard the healer ask.
“No, it’s safe. I said I’d let everyone know if darkspawn were coming, Valar. I even offered to make bird noises.”
“So I heard. Yumi was most entertained by your attempts to imitate an owl.”
“It was a Ferelden owl, they sound different down there. All right, stop looking at me like that. What’s it to be tonight?”
“A dressing change. You can do it yourself, but here’s the poultice and fresh bandages.”
“I won’t need to do this again, will I?”
“It should be fully healed by morning…if you stop scratching it. If not, I’ll mix you another jar before you leave.”
“Thanks. Now this is over with I want to get moving again.”
“Away from the darkspawn, you mean?”
“I’m not a Grey Warden anymore, Valar. I’m here because the Dalish needed help, not because of what I used to be.”
“And we will continue to be in your debt, but don’t you think these nightmares and day-visions of yours are—“
“—trying to tell me something?” Alistair interrupted. “Like I left the kettle on the fire? Or my socks need mending? How about…like I’m not running away fast enough?”
“Your skills are much needed, lethallin. You achieved a lot here.”
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but it’s still ‘no’. I think it’s pretty obvious if I start seeing and hearing…things…in the middle of battle that I’m not cut out for this anymore. I almost got everyone killed!”
“Have you told Galahan what happened yet?”
“He knows everything…including what I had for breakfast this morning. Too smart for his own good, if you ask me.”
“Hrm. Well, as I’ve another patient, I’ll leave you to it. There’s a draught over there if you have trouble sleeping.”
“I always have trouble sleeping. Thank you. I guess it’ll be back to ale and wine when I return to human civilization. I don’t suppose--”
“No, lethallin. Not even if you chose to stay. It would do you more harm than good over time.”
“Just like alcohol, then. But with less singing. Good night, Valar.”
Zevran remained standing with his back turned and waited, keeping his mind carefully blank until the healer reached him.
“Much better,” Valar said, looking at Zevran’s clean face. He peered more closely, lifted a brow and tapped his left cheekbone, meeting the assassin’s eyes. “Not from around here by the looks of those fancy marks…”
“I have a companion with a broken leg alone in the forest,” Zevran said, keeping his voice down. He wanted to be away from this place as quickly as possible, and back with Asleena even faster than that. “She is fevered and weak. I am here for her sake.”
“Another mercy mission, is it? Were you attacked by darkspawn?”
“Yesterday, yes, by Shrieks. We have been wandering lost since that time.”
The healer shook his head, selected a number of items from the table and dropped them into a bag, save a small green vial. “Drink this before you fall over, then come with me.”
Zevran swallowed the syrupy concoction and followed Valar away from the medical beds, being careful not to look back or examine his motivations too closely.
**
“I owe him, then,” Asleena whispered. “More than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“We’ll think of something,” Alistair assured her. “I owe him too, after all. Who’d have thought?”
His lips were only a breath away from hers now, his voice gone soft and deep. “I also came ahead to…apologise, you know. If you’ll allow me to, that is…”
Her mind was still feverishly clamouring that something was amiss, but his nearness and his touch and the look in his eyes set her senses on fire and her pain-hazed thoughts spinning.
When his mouth closed possessively on hers and his tongue teased her lips apart, even those chaotic sparks of sense blew away.
Part 23 - Fever
Alistair was smiling. After what he’d been through, no small part thanks to Asleena, a look of affection was the last thing she’d have expected to see even if it was what she’d hopelessly wished for. His hand stroked her sweaty brow with all the tenderness she remembered of him, traced gently down the side of her face to her jaw, and a fresh wave of vertigo that had nothing to do with her fever made her vision double. She knew that touch well. Missed it…craved it.
It couldn’t be real, her mind struggled to argue. It was a fever-dream. She groped for his hand again, pulling it away from where it had drifted to her chin and taking it into both of her own…and it was solid. Real. She had always treasured the touch of these hands, she recalled muzzily, staring at them…large, strong, calloused and battle-scarred…the first time he’d truly held her with them they’d been trembling and unsure. Every innocent touch of his fingers had conveyed a reverence bordering on open worship. “All hands,” he had said dismally, like it was something to be ashamed of…but she had cherished every caress.
She wanted to take her gauntlets off but couldn’t bring herself to let him go. Not again. Hesitantly, she lifted his palm and pressed it against her cheek. His thumb brushed across her skin in sweet response.
“My love…” she swallowed hard, unable to look up at his face again. “That’s…that’s all you want to say to me?”
“It’s the only thing that’s important.”
“I thought you’d be furious,” she whispered, and prodded the festering wound she knew had to be there. “You’re not angry? Not even a bit?”
“You want me to rant and rave for a while?” he asked jokingly. “I could work up a good froth, you know. Or drool, if it helps. That always attracts a crowd.”
“I don’t want to fight…but you…” she tried to move and groaned. “Oh, Maker…”
He knelt and framed her face with both hands, turning her head to peer concernedly into her eyes. “Maker’s breath, woman, what have you done to yourself?”
Asleena made a vague gesture towards her splinted leg and managed a weak chuckle. “It’s a long story. Zev went to look for a healer. He…” She trailed off and winced as her brain kicked her. If she hadn’t been so light-headed she might have thought twice about mentioning Zevran’s presence so casually. But she had expected to navigate that particular conversation with an angry and hurt Alistair, not the man kneeling beside her now who watched her with nothing more than attentive curiosity.
Maybe she’d been wrong.
“Zev found me first,” Alistair said, resting his brow against hers so that his breath tickled her face. “He pointed the way and I came ahead to make sure you’d be all right…”
**
Zevran followed the sound of Dalish singing until he could see firelight through the trees, then headed straight towards this new beacon with no attempt at stealth. It was faster, and any sentries posted would have less motivation to shoot an obviously elven visitor than a shadow skulking through this darkspawn-infested forest. He had no idea where he was anymore, or how he’d get back to Asleena without a guide who might recognise the geographical features of where he’d left her. After however long he’d been running, one tree looked much like another in the dark.
He was surprised to realise he recognised the tune being sung. Though he didn’t know the words, he remembered it being a song invoking the protection of Mythal.
And the source of the flames turned out to be a large pyre.
No one challenged him as neared the clearing, and he paused only when he reached the trees bordering the very edge. There were several elves standing around the burning pile, all wearing some kind of facial covering as they stood vigil. The general lack of wind meant the black smoke went straight to the sky, but even so there was a familiar foul stench to the conflagration that flipped a card in Zevran’s tired memory: the elves were burning darkspawn corpses.
Movement caught his eyes and a trio of armed, leather-clad elves strode into the clearing. One of them said something to her companions and they left her side, but she walked quickly around the edge to where one of the fire-watchers stood and the two started talking. Without really thinking about it, Zevran found himself picking a silent path between the trees to get close enough to listen in.
“…clan was hit hard, but it looks like many fled to other camps and survived,” the woman was reporting. “We still don’t know how many got away, but signs show the sharlocks took a heavy toll.”
The other elf, a white-haired male, said, “Keeper Zathera?”
“Lives, as does her First.”
“Some good news, at last. Continue, da’len.”
“There is news from Turii’s clan, but good or ill is not for me to say.” The woman sounded uneasy. “I felt it best to tell you before informing Galahan, Alistair and our other guests, as it involves Turii’s First and another Grey Warden.”
Zevran shifted position carefully, pressing his back to the tree he’d ended up behind.
“Keeper Sindel. What has befallen her?”
“Her fate is connected to the Warden’s and her flat-eared companion. All three entered the Green Dales last eve seeking to join the attack on the earthwound. Only Sindel made it back to her clan, and she is…she is ill, hahren. Her healer confided he knows no cure for her sickness.”
The elder was silent. Zevran heard a rustle of clothing, then: “You should be wearing a mask near the pyre, da’len. I do you a disservice for not remembering sooner.”
“What will you tell her betrothed?”
“I don’t know. I will have to think on that for a time. What of the Keeper’s two companions?”
“Presumed dead. They were all in the earthwound, hahren, alive, such are Sindel’s words according to he I spoke with. If accurate…Alistair may have inadvertently helped to drown one, possibly two of his friends.”
The elder sighed heavily. “Leave that to me. Tell me of the other clans.”
“Keeper Athandis’ clan held, and Keeper Damalian’s, but one of her people panicked during a sharlock strike and summoned a spirit from Beyond, which killed her and several others before…“
Their voices faded into the ambient noise of pyre and singing as Zevran crept away. Once a safe distance into the trees he stopped, took a few long breaths and tried to decide what to do. Alistair was here. Somewhere. Should he be alerted to Asleena’s presence or not? It would end her search, for good or ill, and seal the path of Zevran’s future.
No. It is not the time. She…she is fevered and injured and in no condition to deal with his tantrums. I have already taken too long finding help.
Shutting his mind to everything else, he stalked quickly away from the clearing and followed the adjoining trails to another open area, where a pair of aravels stood and halla slept standing. From here he quickly spotted the healer’s corner, dominated by a number of wood-framed beds and a table strewn with jars and herbs. Zevran stepped into clear view, walked straight past two Dalish who didn’t even give him a glance, and approached an elderly elf measuring liquids into a flask.
“Aneth ara,” Zevran tried, using one of the few phrases of his mother’s tongue that he actually remembered.
The healer looked up, squinted his grey eyes and pointed a long finger at a basin of water. “You would do well to clean that blood off your face, da’len. One moment and I will see to your injuries.” Picking up the poultice he’d just prepared and a wad of bandages, he went off towards the beds.
Zevran began to follow, his mouth opening to say something that might hurry the healer’s return, but froze. There was a human man sitting on one of the beds, shirtless and with bandages wrapping his chest.
Alistair.
Moving casually, Zevran went over to the water basin, picked up the wash cloth and turned his back. The former Grey Warden had not been looking in his direction, staring instead into the darkened forest.
“Anything?” he heard the healer ask.
“No, it’s safe. I said I’d let everyone know if darkspawn were coming, Valar. I even offered to make bird noises.”
“So I heard. Yumi was most entertained by your attempts to imitate an owl.”
“It was a Ferelden owl, they sound different down there. All right, stop looking at me like that. What’s it to be tonight?”
“A dressing change. You can do it yourself, but here’s the poultice and fresh bandages.”
“I won’t need to do this again, will I?”
“It should be fully healed by morning…if you stop scratching it. If not, I’ll mix you another jar before you leave.”
“Thanks. Now this is over with I want to get moving again.”
“Away from the darkspawn, you mean?”
“I’m not a Grey Warden anymore, Valar. I’m here because the Dalish needed help, not because of what I used to be.”
“And we will continue to be in your debt, but don’t you think these nightmares and day-visions of yours are—“
“—trying to tell me something?” Alistair interrupted. “Like I left the kettle on the fire? Or my socks need mending? How about…like I’m not running away fast enough?”
“Your skills are much needed, lethallin. You achieved a lot here.”
“Look, I appreciate the offer, but it’s still ‘no’. I think it’s pretty obvious if I start seeing and hearing…things…in the middle of battle that I’m not cut out for this anymore. I almost got everyone killed!”
“Have you told Galahan what happened yet?”
“He knows everything…including what I had for breakfast this morning. Too smart for his own good, if you ask me.”
“Hrm. Well, as I’ve another patient, I’ll leave you to it. There’s a draught over there if you have trouble sleeping.”
“I always have trouble sleeping. Thank you. I guess it’ll be back to ale and wine when I return to human civilization. I don’t suppose--”
“No, lethallin. Not even if you chose to stay. It would do you more harm than good over time.”
“Just like alcohol, then. But with less singing. Good night, Valar.”
Zevran remained standing with his back turned and waited, keeping his mind carefully blank until the healer reached him.
“Much better,” Valar said, looking at Zevran’s clean face. He peered more closely, lifted a brow and tapped his left cheekbone, meeting the assassin’s eyes. “Not from around here by the looks of those fancy marks…”
“I have a companion with a broken leg alone in the forest,” Zevran said, keeping his voice down. He wanted to be away from this place as quickly as possible, and back with Asleena even faster than that. “She is fevered and weak. I am here for her sake.”
“Another mercy mission, is it? Were you attacked by darkspawn?”
“Yesterday, yes, by Shrieks. We have been wandering lost since that time.”
The healer shook his head, selected a number of items from the table and dropped them into a bag, save a small green vial. “Drink this before you fall over, then come with me.”
Zevran swallowed the syrupy concoction and followed Valar away from the medical beds, being careful not to look back or examine his motivations too closely.
**
“I owe him, then,” Asleena whispered. “More than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“We’ll think of something,” Alistair assured her. “I owe him too, after all. Who’d have thought?”
His lips were only a breath away from hers now, his voice gone soft and deep. “I also came ahead to…apologise, you know. If you’ll allow me to, that is…”
Her mind was still feverishly clamouring that something was amiss, but his nearness and his touch and the look in his eyes set her senses on fire and her pain-hazed thoughts spinning.
When his mouth closed possessively on hers and his tongue teased her lips apart, even those chaotic sparks of sense blew away.
#181
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 02:41
Tarante11a
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ARGH! *hops up and down in delighted indignation*
Already posted on ff.net but just wanted post here too. Just awesome story telling. But I do think you are just toying with us now! You are a bad bad person. Fab.
Already posted on ff.net but just wanted post here too. Just awesome story telling. But I do think you are just toying with us now! You are a bad bad person. Fab.
#182
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 02:48
Freckles04
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...I'm confused. I think. Alistair's there...but Zev didn't tell him...so Alistair isn't there? She's dreaming?
Maker's breath.
Maker's breath.
#183
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 02:49
Treason1
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Sooo, she's either hallucinating and it's Zev (sneaky painted elf-thief!) or there's more to the story after Zev left where Alistair was being kept.
#184
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 03:09
Sandtigress
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Yup, definitely need more. Like yesterday. Or right now would be good too. Write write write!
#185
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 03:37
Miliat
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I'm so freaking out right now. Must know more!
#186
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 06:29
bloodtallow
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OK, I'm scared now... hallucinations, desire demons, and secrets, oh my!
#187
Posté 10 mars 2010 - 10:35
TanithAeyrs
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She leads us to the edge of the cliff and lets us hang...cruel, cruel writer.
#189
Posté 11 mars 2010 - 04:06
Jules8445
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Oh for the love...the sweet sweet torture of this thread is almost too much to take sometimes. I'm a junkie though...I MUST have more! As soon as possible!
#190
Posté 12 mars 2010 - 02:03
leeboi2
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I just shed a tear when i found out there wasnt anymore yet 
I'll have to stay tuned for more 
I'll have to stay tuned for more
#191
Posté 12 mars 2010 - 02:34
Gilgamesh1138
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I have been following this on FF, love, love, love, love it! I wanted to say it here too! MOAR Please!
#192
Posté 12 mars 2010 - 05:40
Kulkodar
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Dammit Shadow... where's the next chapter? You wicked dragon, leaving us all hanging. I've been following this since you started and you are very talented. Do keep it coming when you can 
#193
Posté 12 mars 2010 - 11:04
Tausret
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Really good story, cant wait to read the next part
#194
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 01:59
Phoenix Swordsinger
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*Groan* Oh Asleena, don't fall for it!!! (whatever IT is)
Modifié par Phoenix Swordsinger, 13 mars 2010 - 02:00 .
#195
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 11:56
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Congratulations to the very clever cookies who figured things out in advance.
Part 24 - What Could Be
The restorative potion Valar had provided took a while to have an effect, but when it did it hit Zevran’s empty stomach like a glass of potent wine. He stumbled on the trail and put a hand to his spinning head, muttering an oath.
“How long has it been since you last ate?” Valar asked from behind him, while the three Dalish hunters in front looked back at what the trouble was.
“Long enough,” Zevran muttered, accepting a flat loaf of bread someone passed him and giving them a nod of thanks.
“And your companion is in similar straits?”
“Worse.” The assassin tore off a piece of the bread and ate it, saying no more. If he mentioned anything about Asleena being a Grey Warden there would be questions asked, connections made, maybe even suggestions raised that Alistair be informed.
He wanted to avoid that. He wanted…to keep her all to himself for a selfish while longer.
Zevran pressed both hands to his temples and scowled. “What was in that vile potion of yours?”
“A number of things which have names that would be meaningless to you, I’m sure,” Valar said. “Eat, da’len. The scouts will return soon.”
Zevran concentrated on chewing the heavy trail bread while they waited. It was thick and flavourful enough, but his mouth was watering so much it may well have been fresh from the oven and smothered with melted butter. He realised he hadn’t eaten properly since noon the day before, hours prior to entering the Green Dales.
Valar had commandeered the assistance of five other elves and informed his Keeper of what was transpiring before they’d all headed into the forest, him, Zevran and the five hunters. Zevran had done his best to describe the location of where he’d left Asleena, speaking of the straight narrow trail and the cave, and the Dalish were able to find the way back from there. No resistance had been encountered during the journey, but once they found the base of the ridge Zevran had mentioned, two of the hunters went to scout ahead.
They returned now.
“The path is not safe,” one reported in a low voice, “There is a spirit ahead…feeding off a shem.”
“Then we will have to—“
Zevran ducked past them and sped up the trail, daggers flying into both hands along the way. He ignored the hoarsely quiet shouts behind him, but was aware that the elves followed. His heart pounded but a familiar chill suffused his blood and cleared his head faster than any drug could.
She cannot be dead.
And then, up ahead, two figures were standing in the middle of the path and close together. Zevran slowed to a cautious walk then stopped, paying no attention to the angry whispers of the Dalish. The first figure was undoubtedly Asleena. Her back was to them and she was on her feet and in her armour, though sword, shield, dagger and crossbow were all discarded on the ground near the flasks Zevran had left. Facing the Grey Warden, and the elves by extension, was a demon. However it looked to Asleena and the Dalish, to Zevran’s eyes it was an obviously female form, desirably curvaceous, and barely clothed. A pair of massive horns grew from its brow.
Zevran rubbed the spot on his neck where the bites the Hunger Demon had given him still left a vague imprint in his flesh. When the Dalish had said Asleena was being fed off, he’d feared…
“That is your friend?” one of the elves demanded, grabbing Zevran’s shoulder. “You didn’t say it was a human!”
“We should kill them both and be done with it,” another muttered.
“Now, now,” Valar said mildly. “In case you have forgotten, children, we have a shemlen back at camp who fought alongside our kin against the darkspawn.”
“We have to kill the spirit,” a third elf pointed out. “But if we try, it will use this shem to protect itself. It can make her see whatever it wants, right?”
“That is possible, yes. Desire demons…can be difficult.”
Zevran returned his weapons to their sheaths. He’d seen a desire demon or two while in Ferelden, and come to think of them as the Fade’s masters of seduction. He’d never gone toe to toe with one before. This might just be an interesting challenge.
“You are the best one to try and pull your friend from its thrall,” Valar was saying. “You know her better than we do and have an idea of what the demon might tempt her with.”
“How is she standing?” Zevran asked, ignoring that last bit. “Her leg is broken.”
“Such spirits are masterful at weaving illusions. I’d say your friend can’t feel the pain her body is in right now, any more than she can feel her energies being drained. Be careful,” Valar added when Zevran began to move forwards. “Don’t trust it. You are as much food to it as she is.”
Zevran approached Asleena and the demon alone, keeping his empty hands clearly visible. The murmur of their conversation became more audible as he drew near, and he stopped several paces away when the demon’s dark eyes fixed on his and a cat-smile curved its lips.
“I heard something,” Asleena said in a distant manner, though she did not turn around to look.
“I’ll check it out,” the demon replied. Its voice was throaty and feminine to Zevran, but somehow his ears could pick up at least two other levels overlaying this: one a strange and inhuman tone, the other an inflection that could only be identified as Alistair’s. “It might be darkspawn.”
“I can’t sense…”
“Of course you can’t, you’re sick,” the demon said. “I bet you can’t sense me even when I do this.” And, still watching Zevran, the creature wrapped a clawed hand around Asleena’s waist, pulled her closer so that their hips met and kissed her deeply.
Zevran watched with a raised brow and some degree of interest. It was hard not to be interested when two very attractive and very dangerous women were locking lips a short distance away.
“Room for one more?” he asked dryly. “I never get invited to these parties. It makes me sad.”
One of the hands resting upon Asleena’s hips lifted and beckoned with a talon-tipped finger. When the assassin had come within arm’s length, the demon broke its kiss and said, “Zev’s back. Look.”
Asleena turned and saw him. Her sudden smile was radiant and joyous, and she threw her arms around the startled assassin’s neck with a happy cry. “Zev! You found him, I can’t believe it!” Her enthusiastic embrace tightened, becoming warmer. “Thank you. I…don’t know how else to say it.” She pulled back suddenly and knuckled her eyes, but was still smiling. “You’ll come back to Ferelden with us, won’t you? Please?”
“You two made up remarkably quickly,” Zevran noted with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “I thought he didn’t want to go back to Ferelden.”
“What can I say?” the demon replied. “Her desire is my command. How about it, Zev? Just the three of us for a while? Could be fun.”
It was the sort of thing Alistair might say, but the demon’s underlying invitation brought on a whole new meaning to the words. They could go…anywhere. They could go nowhere and the demon had the power to make it seem otherwise. And sooner or later, Zevran would get…
“…whatever your heart desires,” the demon purred, watching him avidly. “Pleasure. Freedom from your past. Vengeance against your enemies.” It stepped up behind Asleena and twined both hands around her waist. “The heart of a certain mortal woman…all to yourself. A new life.”
“And you would get a second course, yes?” Zevran gave his head a little shake and frowned. “You offer me illusions. They are not as tempting as you might think.”
“She is no illusion,” the demon said, running a hand up over Asleena’s breastplate. Removing its hold on her, it gave the Warden a light push and Asleena stepped towards Zevran again. This time when she looked into his eyes, her smile was hesitant, almost shy, and more alluring than he’d ever seen from her. There was no trace of fever in her face, and the darkspawn blood that had streaked her skin was suddenly gone. She looked healthy, clean, gorgeous, and completely enthralled by him.
She reached up and touched the tattooed side of his face, trailing her fingers slowly down the sinuous marks. Zevran kept completely still, but his heart started to race. The previous thought of this being some kind of ‘challenge’ suddenly seemed a very foolish and prideful one.
“She could be yours whenever you wished. I require…little in return. You need never see me in fact.”
“Not even when you drain us completely?” Zevran asked, doing what he could to maintain his self-control. Asleena’s hand had slid up the line of his jaw to one pointed ear, and she was tracing the shape of it with a look of fully-absorbed fascination. She’d probably never touched an elf’s ears before…
“Mortals do not understand us as well as they think. Your passions and energies would sustain me, yes…and in return I would see your desires fulfilled. A mutually beneficial arrangement for all concerned. Your kind perish and waste away in the end, but I can ensure you would both die happily, content and blissful. I could create a whole life for the two of you, free of suffering, full of sensation…”
Zevran grabbed one of Asleena’s wrists as she went for his belt buckle of all places, then shot a furious glare at the demon. “You can see what I desire, and you think I want this?” He tried to regain control of himself and his voice, a feat more difficult than he’d expected it to be. “I am…disappointed. I thought more highly of the Fade’s marvellous desire demons.”
The demon’s chuckle was low and throaty. “I know what you desire better than you do. Mortals waste so much strength denying themselves what they want. We allow them to have everything, free of all consequence.”
Zevran looked back at Asleena, who shifted her gaze from his eyes to his lips. “Does she want me?” The question was asked before he could stop himself.
“Do you think she has never dreamed of being in your arms? Never wondered what it would be like to have your lips on her breasts, your hands running down her skin, her legs around your hips…”
Zevran felt his loins stirring against his will and forced himself to step backwards, but somehow forgot to release Asleena’s wrist. She came with him and put a finger to his lips, a small frown of concern knotting her brow.
“Shh. I want this,” she breathed.
“No you don’t, amore,” he said softly, pulling her hand away. “And neither do I.”
He struck her hard across the face. She staggered backwards and fell, crying out with pain as her right leg buckled beneath her. The blood, dirt and sweat was suddenly on her face and armour again, and he didn’t stop to ask if she had broken free of the glamour but lunged for the sword lying in the dirt.
He almost reached it before the demon did.
The point tickled his throat.
Zevran grimaced, hand still outstretched, but his eyes fell on the flasks of acid and soulrot nearby.
“How could…how could you do that? To her?!” the demon said, the echoes of Alistair’s anger overlaying its own taunting voice. “We trusted you! She trusted you!”
“Asleena,” Zevran said, half-crouched and eyes fixated on the glass bottles. “My dear, this isn’t him. It is a desire demon.”
“I don’t look anything like a desire demon! They’re all…purple skin and horns and…and femaleish!”
“Yes,” the assassin agreed, moving his hand with agonising slowness. “That’s exactly what they look like. You have his vocabulary down perfectly, I see. Congratulations.”
Asleena’s voice came from somewhere near the ground, shaking slightly. “I can’t believe you hit me…”
“This isn’t who you think it is,” Zevran repeated levelly. “Think, my dear. I know you are tired, but—“
The sword point nicked his skin. “That’s enough, I think,” the demon said. “Do you know what the beauty of this is, mortal? Perception. She will see what she desires to see. I can kill you…but if she doesn’t want you to die, she will never know it happened. In her mind you will walk and talk and eat and mate just like you always—“
Zevran grabbed, rolled backwards and threw the acid flask full at its face. “Change her perception of that!” he shouted as it shattered.
The demon shrieked, dropping the sword to claw at its eyes. Asleena screamed too. She staggered upright, interposed her body between the demon and Zevran and picked up the loaded crossbow, but the point of the bolt weaved uncertainly as the Dalish ran up the path to flank Zevran.
“I think we waited long enough,” one of the elves said grimly, pulling an arrow from his quiver.
“Darkspawn,” the demon snarled, glaring at them.
**
Asleena shook her head but the fog refused to lift. She could see the Shrieks, seven of them, but none were trying to hide and none were attacking. Zevran had vanished completely.
“No, they’re…not darkspawn. I can’t sense…” She tried to grip the crossbow more firmly. “Zev!” she shouted, even though her face burned where he’d struck her, even though he’d attacked Alistair. “We need help!”
He couldn’t have left. Not just like that. What had she done? What had happened? Nothing was making sense! One moment everything had been gloriously perfect…
“It is a demon, Asleena!” Zevran’s voice called from amongst the sharlocks. “None of this is what it looks like.” One of them shambled towards her, its gangling arms hanging at its sides. She kept her weapon trained on it but it made no attempt to deviate and stopped right in front of her, the bolt on a direct line with its chest. “See?” it said. “Here I am.”
She looked back at Alistair and frowned. He should have been a bleeding and scarred wreck after being hit by that acid. His face should have been ruined. But it was still impossibly handsome and unscathed.
“It’s what you want,” he said, coming towards her with his arms outstretched. “Would you rather I be disfigured?”
His face blurred and she averted her eyes. “No. Damn.” Her hands shook. She clenched them tighter around the stock. “Damn.” The crossbow came up and pointed straight at Alistair’s head. “Sodding Fade ****!”
“And she’s back,” Zevran’s voice said. The sharlock grinned hideously. “I knew you’d come around. Can we get to the killing part now?”
“You should have hit me harder—“ Asleena roared and dropped to one knee as the demon removed whatever power it had employed to shield the pain in her leg. Her finger pulled the trigger and a bolt thudded into Alistair’s chest. The quarrel was joined by a number of arrows, and the demon couldn’t avoid all of them. Its shouts of pain were in Alistair’s voice, its calls to her for help and its battle-cries when the Zevran-Shriek jumped it were Alistair’s words.
When it fell a few minutes later, a bolt between its eyes and Zevran’s daggers in its heart, it was Alistair’s eyes that stared blankly at the night sky.
**
“How much will she remember?” Zevran asked Valar some time later.
A small camp had been set up right there on the trail. Four of the Dalish had been injured during the fight and tended to, but were not so badly off they couldn’t keep watch. Three of them had even ventured further to see the cave Zevran had said led to darkspawn tunnels and done something to collapse it.
Asleena alone slept, her leg having been tended to after Valar had made her eat something and drink a number of his potions. Her broken bone wasn’t mended for he possessed no magical skills, but he’d assured Zevran the fever would be reduced or gone by morning. Much of the strain had gone from her face now, though the shadow of a bruise was beginning to blossom across one cheek.
“It’s always hard to say with spirits from Beyond,” the healer said, lashing two stout pieces of wood together with some rope. “She was not physically possessed, so she may well recall everything. On the other hand she was fevered, so…” And here he shrugged eloquently. “The mind is a curious thing. Even when our people were immortal I doubt they understood everything there was to know about it.
“You would do well to get some sleep…Zev, was it?”
“Zevran.” He looked at the sleeping Grey Warden and decided Valar might have earned it all in one night. “But yes, Zev to my friends.”
“Well, Zev,” Valar said, “tomorrow morning I suggest we head for Damalian’s clan, which is not too far. They have a healer skilled in magic who can fix Asleena’s leg properly.”
“They’ll no doubt want to hear about this demon, also,” one of the hunters threw over her shoulder. “I heard right before we left that a spirit got loose from them during the battle last night.”
Valar made a ‘hrm’ noise as he picked up another piece of wood, examining it critically, and Zevran, now past the worrying thought that they might have been going straight back to Valar’s camp where the real Alistair was, lay down atop the blanket-wrapped bundle of Duncan’s shield with its tell-tale Grey Warden emblem and tried to relax.
Whatever morning brought, he would have to make the best of it.
Part 24 - What Could Be
The restorative potion Valar had provided took a while to have an effect, but when it did it hit Zevran’s empty stomach like a glass of potent wine. He stumbled on the trail and put a hand to his spinning head, muttering an oath.
“How long has it been since you last ate?” Valar asked from behind him, while the three Dalish hunters in front looked back at what the trouble was.
“Long enough,” Zevran muttered, accepting a flat loaf of bread someone passed him and giving them a nod of thanks.
“And your companion is in similar straits?”
“Worse.” The assassin tore off a piece of the bread and ate it, saying no more. If he mentioned anything about Asleena being a Grey Warden there would be questions asked, connections made, maybe even suggestions raised that Alistair be informed.
He wanted to avoid that. He wanted…to keep her all to himself for a selfish while longer.
Zevran pressed both hands to his temples and scowled. “What was in that vile potion of yours?”
“A number of things which have names that would be meaningless to you, I’m sure,” Valar said. “Eat, da’len. The scouts will return soon.”
Zevran concentrated on chewing the heavy trail bread while they waited. It was thick and flavourful enough, but his mouth was watering so much it may well have been fresh from the oven and smothered with melted butter. He realised he hadn’t eaten properly since noon the day before, hours prior to entering the Green Dales.
Valar had commandeered the assistance of five other elves and informed his Keeper of what was transpiring before they’d all headed into the forest, him, Zevran and the five hunters. Zevran had done his best to describe the location of where he’d left Asleena, speaking of the straight narrow trail and the cave, and the Dalish were able to find the way back from there. No resistance had been encountered during the journey, but once they found the base of the ridge Zevran had mentioned, two of the hunters went to scout ahead.
They returned now.
“The path is not safe,” one reported in a low voice, “There is a spirit ahead…feeding off a shem.”
“Then we will have to—“
Zevran ducked past them and sped up the trail, daggers flying into both hands along the way. He ignored the hoarsely quiet shouts behind him, but was aware that the elves followed. His heart pounded but a familiar chill suffused his blood and cleared his head faster than any drug could.
She cannot be dead.
And then, up ahead, two figures were standing in the middle of the path and close together. Zevran slowed to a cautious walk then stopped, paying no attention to the angry whispers of the Dalish. The first figure was undoubtedly Asleena. Her back was to them and she was on her feet and in her armour, though sword, shield, dagger and crossbow were all discarded on the ground near the flasks Zevran had left. Facing the Grey Warden, and the elves by extension, was a demon. However it looked to Asleena and the Dalish, to Zevran’s eyes it was an obviously female form, desirably curvaceous, and barely clothed. A pair of massive horns grew from its brow.
Zevran rubbed the spot on his neck where the bites the Hunger Demon had given him still left a vague imprint in his flesh. When the Dalish had said Asleena was being fed off, he’d feared…
“That is your friend?” one of the elves demanded, grabbing Zevran’s shoulder. “You didn’t say it was a human!”
“We should kill them both and be done with it,” another muttered.
“Now, now,” Valar said mildly. “In case you have forgotten, children, we have a shemlen back at camp who fought alongside our kin against the darkspawn.”
“We have to kill the spirit,” a third elf pointed out. “But if we try, it will use this shem to protect itself. It can make her see whatever it wants, right?”
“That is possible, yes. Desire demons…can be difficult.”
Zevran returned his weapons to their sheaths. He’d seen a desire demon or two while in Ferelden, and come to think of them as the Fade’s masters of seduction. He’d never gone toe to toe with one before. This might just be an interesting challenge.
“You are the best one to try and pull your friend from its thrall,” Valar was saying. “You know her better than we do and have an idea of what the demon might tempt her with.”
“How is she standing?” Zevran asked, ignoring that last bit. “Her leg is broken.”
“Such spirits are masterful at weaving illusions. I’d say your friend can’t feel the pain her body is in right now, any more than she can feel her energies being drained. Be careful,” Valar added when Zevran began to move forwards. “Don’t trust it. You are as much food to it as she is.”
Zevran approached Asleena and the demon alone, keeping his empty hands clearly visible. The murmur of their conversation became more audible as he drew near, and he stopped several paces away when the demon’s dark eyes fixed on his and a cat-smile curved its lips.
“I heard something,” Asleena said in a distant manner, though she did not turn around to look.
“I’ll check it out,” the demon replied. Its voice was throaty and feminine to Zevran, but somehow his ears could pick up at least two other levels overlaying this: one a strange and inhuman tone, the other an inflection that could only be identified as Alistair’s. “It might be darkspawn.”
“I can’t sense…”
“Of course you can’t, you’re sick,” the demon said. “I bet you can’t sense me even when I do this.” And, still watching Zevran, the creature wrapped a clawed hand around Asleena’s waist, pulled her closer so that their hips met and kissed her deeply.
Zevran watched with a raised brow and some degree of interest. It was hard not to be interested when two very attractive and very dangerous women were locking lips a short distance away.
“Room for one more?” he asked dryly. “I never get invited to these parties. It makes me sad.”
One of the hands resting upon Asleena’s hips lifted and beckoned with a talon-tipped finger. When the assassin had come within arm’s length, the demon broke its kiss and said, “Zev’s back. Look.”
Asleena turned and saw him. Her sudden smile was radiant and joyous, and she threw her arms around the startled assassin’s neck with a happy cry. “Zev! You found him, I can’t believe it!” Her enthusiastic embrace tightened, becoming warmer. “Thank you. I…don’t know how else to say it.” She pulled back suddenly and knuckled her eyes, but was still smiling. “You’ll come back to Ferelden with us, won’t you? Please?”
“You two made up remarkably quickly,” Zevran noted with a cheerfulness he didn’t feel. “I thought he didn’t want to go back to Ferelden.”
“What can I say?” the demon replied. “Her desire is my command. How about it, Zev? Just the three of us for a while? Could be fun.”
It was the sort of thing Alistair might say, but the demon’s underlying invitation brought on a whole new meaning to the words. They could go…anywhere. They could go nowhere and the demon had the power to make it seem otherwise. And sooner or later, Zevran would get…
“…whatever your heart desires,” the demon purred, watching him avidly. “Pleasure. Freedom from your past. Vengeance against your enemies.” It stepped up behind Asleena and twined both hands around her waist. “The heart of a certain mortal woman…all to yourself. A new life.”
“And you would get a second course, yes?” Zevran gave his head a little shake and frowned. “You offer me illusions. They are not as tempting as you might think.”
“She is no illusion,” the demon said, running a hand up over Asleena’s breastplate. Removing its hold on her, it gave the Warden a light push and Asleena stepped towards Zevran again. This time when she looked into his eyes, her smile was hesitant, almost shy, and more alluring than he’d ever seen from her. There was no trace of fever in her face, and the darkspawn blood that had streaked her skin was suddenly gone. She looked healthy, clean, gorgeous, and completely enthralled by him.
She reached up and touched the tattooed side of his face, trailing her fingers slowly down the sinuous marks. Zevran kept completely still, but his heart started to race. The previous thought of this being some kind of ‘challenge’ suddenly seemed a very foolish and prideful one.
“She could be yours whenever you wished. I require…little in return. You need never see me in fact.”
“Not even when you drain us completely?” Zevran asked, doing what he could to maintain his self-control. Asleena’s hand had slid up the line of his jaw to one pointed ear, and she was tracing the shape of it with a look of fully-absorbed fascination. She’d probably never touched an elf’s ears before…
“Mortals do not understand us as well as they think. Your passions and energies would sustain me, yes…and in return I would see your desires fulfilled. A mutually beneficial arrangement for all concerned. Your kind perish and waste away in the end, but I can ensure you would both die happily, content and blissful. I could create a whole life for the two of you, free of suffering, full of sensation…”
Zevran grabbed one of Asleena’s wrists as she went for his belt buckle of all places, then shot a furious glare at the demon. “You can see what I desire, and you think I want this?” He tried to regain control of himself and his voice, a feat more difficult than he’d expected it to be. “I am…disappointed. I thought more highly of the Fade’s marvellous desire demons.”
The demon’s chuckle was low and throaty. “I know what you desire better than you do. Mortals waste so much strength denying themselves what they want. We allow them to have everything, free of all consequence.”
Zevran looked back at Asleena, who shifted her gaze from his eyes to his lips. “Does she want me?” The question was asked before he could stop himself.
“Do you think she has never dreamed of being in your arms? Never wondered what it would be like to have your lips on her breasts, your hands running down her skin, her legs around your hips…”
Zevran felt his loins stirring against his will and forced himself to step backwards, but somehow forgot to release Asleena’s wrist. She came with him and put a finger to his lips, a small frown of concern knotting her brow.
“Shh. I want this,” she breathed.
“No you don’t, amore,” he said softly, pulling her hand away. “And neither do I.”
He struck her hard across the face. She staggered backwards and fell, crying out with pain as her right leg buckled beneath her. The blood, dirt and sweat was suddenly on her face and armour again, and he didn’t stop to ask if she had broken free of the glamour but lunged for the sword lying in the dirt.
He almost reached it before the demon did.
The point tickled his throat.
Zevran grimaced, hand still outstretched, but his eyes fell on the flasks of acid and soulrot nearby.
“How could…how could you do that? To her?!” the demon said, the echoes of Alistair’s anger overlaying its own taunting voice. “We trusted you! She trusted you!”
“Asleena,” Zevran said, half-crouched and eyes fixated on the glass bottles. “My dear, this isn’t him. It is a desire demon.”
“I don’t look anything like a desire demon! They’re all…purple skin and horns and…and femaleish!”
“Yes,” the assassin agreed, moving his hand with agonising slowness. “That’s exactly what they look like. You have his vocabulary down perfectly, I see. Congratulations.”
Asleena’s voice came from somewhere near the ground, shaking slightly. “I can’t believe you hit me…”
“This isn’t who you think it is,” Zevran repeated levelly. “Think, my dear. I know you are tired, but—“
The sword point nicked his skin. “That’s enough, I think,” the demon said. “Do you know what the beauty of this is, mortal? Perception. She will see what she desires to see. I can kill you…but if she doesn’t want you to die, she will never know it happened. In her mind you will walk and talk and eat and mate just like you always—“
Zevran grabbed, rolled backwards and threw the acid flask full at its face. “Change her perception of that!” he shouted as it shattered.
The demon shrieked, dropping the sword to claw at its eyes. Asleena screamed too. She staggered upright, interposed her body between the demon and Zevran and picked up the loaded crossbow, but the point of the bolt weaved uncertainly as the Dalish ran up the path to flank Zevran.
“I think we waited long enough,” one of the elves said grimly, pulling an arrow from his quiver.
“Darkspawn,” the demon snarled, glaring at them.
**
Asleena shook her head but the fog refused to lift. She could see the Shrieks, seven of them, but none were trying to hide and none were attacking. Zevran had vanished completely.
“No, they’re…not darkspawn. I can’t sense…” She tried to grip the crossbow more firmly. “Zev!” she shouted, even though her face burned where he’d struck her, even though he’d attacked Alistair. “We need help!”
He couldn’t have left. Not just like that. What had she done? What had happened? Nothing was making sense! One moment everything had been gloriously perfect…
“It is a demon, Asleena!” Zevran’s voice called from amongst the sharlocks. “None of this is what it looks like.” One of them shambled towards her, its gangling arms hanging at its sides. She kept her weapon trained on it but it made no attempt to deviate and stopped right in front of her, the bolt on a direct line with its chest. “See?” it said. “Here I am.”
She looked back at Alistair and frowned. He should have been a bleeding and scarred wreck after being hit by that acid. His face should have been ruined. But it was still impossibly handsome and unscathed.
“It’s what you want,” he said, coming towards her with his arms outstretched. “Would you rather I be disfigured?”
His face blurred and she averted her eyes. “No. Damn.” Her hands shook. She clenched them tighter around the stock. “Damn.” The crossbow came up and pointed straight at Alistair’s head. “Sodding Fade ****!”
“And she’s back,” Zevran’s voice said. The sharlock grinned hideously. “I knew you’d come around. Can we get to the killing part now?”
“You should have hit me harder—“ Asleena roared and dropped to one knee as the demon removed whatever power it had employed to shield the pain in her leg. Her finger pulled the trigger and a bolt thudded into Alistair’s chest. The quarrel was joined by a number of arrows, and the demon couldn’t avoid all of them. Its shouts of pain were in Alistair’s voice, its calls to her for help and its battle-cries when the Zevran-Shriek jumped it were Alistair’s words.
When it fell a few minutes later, a bolt between its eyes and Zevran’s daggers in its heart, it was Alistair’s eyes that stared blankly at the night sky.
**
“How much will she remember?” Zevran asked Valar some time later.
A small camp had been set up right there on the trail. Four of the Dalish had been injured during the fight and tended to, but were not so badly off they couldn’t keep watch. Three of them had even ventured further to see the cave Zevran had said led to darkspawn tunnels and done something to collapse it.
Asleena alone slept, her leg having been tended to after Valar had made her eat something and drink a number of his potions. Her broken bone wasn’t mended for he possessed no magical skills, but he’d assured Zevran the fever would be reduced or gone by morning. Much of the strain had gone from her face now, though the shadow of a bruise was beginning to blossom across one cheek.
“It’s always hard to say with spirits from Beyond,” the healer said, lashing two stout pieces of wood together with some rope. “She was not physically possessed, so she may well recall everything. On the other hand she was fevered, so…” And here he shrugged eloquently. “The mind is a curious thing. Even when our people were immortal I doubt they understood everything there was to know about it.
“You would do well to get some sleep…Zev, was it?”
“Zevran.” He looked at the sleeping Grey Warden and decided Valar might have earned it all in one night. “But yes, Zev to my friends.”
“Well, Zev,” Valar said, “tomorrow morning I suggest we head for Damalian’s clan, which is not too far. They have a healer skilled in magic who can fix Asleena’s leg properly.”
“They’ll no doubt want to hear about this demon, also,” one of the hunters threw over her shoulder. “I heard right before we left that a spirit got loose from them during the battle last night.”
Valar made a ‘hrm’ noise as he picked up another piece of wood, examining it critically, and Zevran, now past the worrying thought that they might have been going straight back to Valar’s camp where the real Alistair was, lay down atop the blanket-wrapped bundle of Duncan’s shield with its tell-tale Grey Warden emblem and tried to relax.
Whatever morning brought, he would have to make the best of it.
#196
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 12:30
Tarante11a
-
- Members
- 342 messages
I've reviewed on ff.net but had to say something here. This is the best Zev you've written so far I think - and that is saying something considering you've written him so fantastically well so far. I laughed out loud at his 'considerations' - so Zev, so right.
Loved reading it and as I said on ff.net, think this might be my fave installment so far.
Excellent excellent as always.
Loved reading it and as I said on ff.net, think this might be my fave installment so far.
Excellent excellent as always.
#197
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 01:29
Phoenix Swordsinger
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- 188 messages
Shadow, my gaming is now 'flavored' by your excellent story telling. Can't wait for the next chapter.
#198
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 04:17
Jules8445
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- 247 messages
Wow. How do your chapters get better every single time? This was an excellent chapter....what other people have said is true...you write Zev so incredibly well...and your writing of Alistair rings very true as well.
Beautiful work! Can't wait for the next chapter! This was a little less of a cliffhanger...but still.
Beautiful work! Can't wait for the next chapter! This was a little less of a cliffhanger...but still.
#199
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 09:51
Shadow of Light Dragon
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- 5 179 messages
Can't have cliff-hangers *all* the time...Much as I love being told how evil I am. XD
Thanks for the comments! I was a little worried about this one for some reason, but if it's gone down well then I'm very happy.
Thanks for the comments! I was a little worried about this one for some reason, but if it's gone down well then I'm very happy.
#200
Posté 13 mars 2010 - 10:00
Sandtigress
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- 3 967 messages
Good stuff, ready for more! Alistair needs to hear about Zevran and Asleena from the other elves before he goes!!! He has to!
